


You made me the Hopeless Choice

by AnythingEver



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, AU to another fic, Aftermath of Abandonment, Aftermath of Betrayal, Angst, Consider yourself warned: this is heavy on the angst, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Geralt deserves to be smacked around the head, Geralt reaps what he sowed, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Jaskier deserves all the hugs, M/M, Mental Health Issues, No beta we break like Jaskier's heart and trust, Sorry Not Sorry, That I did not write, Trust Issues, writing is cheaper than therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:55:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25464337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnythingEver/pseuds/AnythingEver
Summary: This fic will only make sense if you've read up to chapter 13 of winnerstick's amazing work "I'd Be the Choiceless Hope".After Geralt leaves Jaskier to his own device in a very painful way, he slowly comes to understand what exactly he has done, and had to cope with the consequences of his action.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Lambert, Lambert/Jaskier|Dandelion
Comments: 16
Kudos: 166





	You made me the Hopeless Choice

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I'd Be the Choiceless Hope](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25198561) by [lesdemonium (winnerstick)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winnerstick/pseuds/lesdemonium). 



> Beware, this is very, very angsty. I can't highlight that enough.
> 
> To winnerstick I offer my most sincere apologies, but that chapter broke my heart so much I just had to do something.

It had taken all of his strength to not turn around and yield to the bard prayers and sobs, as he had been begging on his knees for Geralt not to leave him here, not to abandon him, not to betray him by commanding him, by using his one weakness against him. It had taken him all of his strength to go away, to tear himself from him who was maybe the only person ever to have trusted him so blindly, standing by his side on and on no matter the hardships. But it had been for the best. Jaskier wasn't safe with him, not with that sword of Damocles hanging over his head. Geralt had to protect him. _Had_ to. So he had made sure that Jaskier would be safe. Far from him. Far from danger. And if to achieve that he had had to break the bard's heart, and his trust- well so be it! It was a wrong for a right. Given some time, even Jaskier will realise it. He had done the right thing.

Time seemed to flow slowly in his newfound loneliness, and the silence sometimes felt deafening. He caught himself many times calling after Jaskier when dismounting Roach. After a hunt for dinner when he happily came back to his campsite his hands heavy with the rabbits he had caught, only to find the fire unmade, because no one was there to do it in his absence, and his hands were far too full for just himself. He grunted, every time, a slight annoyance on the tip of his heart, but he didn't dare dwell on it. It was for the best.

When the real hunt took place, when it was vicious, when he ended up fighting the monsters he was designed to fight, when he found himself injured, when no one was there to patch him up, to rub salve on him, to worry about him and make sure he was alright, the loneliness was the worst. He had been used to it. Accustomed to it. But a few decades spent in the company of with the bubbliest person he had ever met had made him longing for the easy comfort of that happy chatter, of that neverending kindness, and it was really hard, now, not to regret his decision. But he had been right. Jaskier was safe, and it was all that should matter. So, he accustomed himself to silence once again.

He had thought it was the worst, he had been wrong. For the nastiness of monsters was _nothing_ compared to the hatred he received from humans. Villagers, townspeople, farmers on their lands, princes and peasants all the same, everybody seem to refrain from spitting in his face. Everywhere he was welcomed with a snarl at best, with curses at worst. It was like the world had dumped upon him a blanket of hatred, one from which Jaskier had, in a way, protected him during all their time together, and if he had not always managed, at least he had done his damned best to comfort him afterward, to take his defense, to build his reputation back. But now no song preceded him, or followed his steps, no engaging voice sung his heroics, as Jaskier had so many times earn himself a growl from Geralt by calling it such. No one was calling him a friend of humanity anymore. But at least, Jaskier was safe. And if his loneliness and deep sorrow was everything he had to pay for it, then so be it. He had been willing to pay the price. He still was. He would do it again all the same.

When he had met Yennefer for the first time after being separated from the bard, they had not tumbled back into bed. He couldn't explain why, but he felt like he just couldn't. But they had drunk, a lot, and she had enquired after Jaskier's absence, wondering aloud why his little puppy wasn't on his heels this time. He had told her. Not everything immediately. But piece by piece, she got it all. And-- she had laughed. Out loud. Uproariously. And that definitely hadn't been the reaction he was expecting.

"Oh, oh, I'm sorry! This is just too good! You _abandoned_ him? You commanded him to stay where he was, without the possibility to follow you, while you rode away in the forest? You left him, plain and simple, on his own? And you're adamant you did it to protect him?"

When the laughter died there was a stranger fire in those violet eyes. Mischief. Surprise. A hint of cruelty maybe.

"You do realize that by commanding him to stay here you made him free game for anybody who would want to assault him in any way, right?"

Geralt froze.

No.

He hadn't realized.

"You just left him and ran away, to _protect_ him, leaving him at the mercy of the rest of the world, knowing perfectly-- what am I saying! Having been <i>warned</i> that people were looking for his enslavement? And yet you did it to protect him!"

She snorted in her cup.

"I can figure out the scene so much. Did he beg Geralt? Did he plead for you not to do it? Did he implore you while you were breaking every single promise you made him?"

She took a sip slowly.

"Did he cry while you were betraying him?"

She looked at him square in the eye. There was a dangerous enjoyment seeping from her as she was nailing her words in his mind.

"I wonder how the poor bard handled the breaking of his trust. I wonder how he is, now, that _absolutely_ everybody he's ever met has taken advantage of his 'gift'. I truly wonder how he's coping. Because that, my friend, is a true textbook case!"

When Geralt failed to answer for too long, she sighed.

"You've become boring Geralt. There's truly something lacking now that the bard isn't around anymore."

She rose from her seat and bid him goodnight in a disinterested voice.

It would be futile to attempt to deny that Yennefer's words had shaken him. But in the morning, when he left without saying goodbye, he was still convinced he had acted for the best. Because Jaskier was resilient, and he had gone through so much before Geralt even hit him that there was no way he hadn't already gotten over the whole ordeal. And at least, far from him, far from the Path, Jaskier was safe. Yennefer be damned.

He had begun to grow worried, though, when he realized he hadn't heard about him for a long time. When they had been apart, before, word had always reached him of his antics. A new song. A rumor. People laughing about the latest tomfoolery of the bard Jaskier. Furious husband sulking because their wives' bed hadn't been as empty in their absence as they should have. But since that dreadful night, nothing. The world was mute about him. It was... Odd. Strange. Unsettling. Disturbing. The Continent was vast, yes, but it had never stopped the wind of hearsay before, or talentless bards to sing songs they hadn't written. But now, nothing. He tried not to read too much into it. If anything, it was a good indication that the bard was keeping a low profile, which was for the best. And since he had been too stubborn to accept to even <i>try</i> and lift the curse, it was definitely a good move from him. Geralt was trying very hard to ignore the tug at his heart claiming that it was <i>wrong</i>, that <i>he</i> was wrong, that something must have happened, something terrible, and that maybe, just maybe, he could have prevented it.

His certitudes shattered to pieces as soon as Eskel's fist hit his face when he step back into Kaer Morhen for the first time in a few years. He hadn't been able to come back for winter for some time, and that was definitely not the welcome he had expected. And then there was yelling. Lots of yelling. He had a hard time making out the words that were roared at him with the way his ears ringed from the blood rush where he had been punched. But there was something along the lines of 'fucking moron... destroyed... could... killed... broken... Lambert... piece of shit...' When finally he could make sense of the words that his brother eructed--

"You stupid piece of shit! The only time someone trusts you! The only time someone doesn't cross your path reeking of fear and disgust! The only good thing life has thrown your way! And that's what you do? Do you have any idea of what you've done?

\- Eskel! What are you talking about? Is this about Jaskier?

\- Damn right it is about Jaskier!"

Geralt couldn't figure out how anything regarding his relationship to the bard could have reach his brother, but since it was the case...

"Well at least he's safe now."

In another setting, the way Eskel's eyes widened would have been comical. It wasn't. Eskel scoffed.

"Safe? You think he's safe? Is this what you've been telling yourself to get to sleep at night? Is this the little lie you've been pretending to believe since you did it?"

Geralt frowned, rubbing his jaw where the punch had landed.

"At least he's safe from the dangers of the Path.

\- The Path? The Path?? That's really what you were trying to protect him from?? So you sacrificed his emotional integrity to his bodily saftey thinking this was the right thing to do?

\- What the fuck Eskel?"

He didn't get any more than that, but this winter might have weel been the worst he ever spent with his family. Both Vesemir and Eskel were giving him the cold shoulder. And Lambert was nowhere to be found. When the ice began to thaw, Eskel came to him.

"Get out of here. Find Lambert. Talk to him. See what you've done with your own eyes. And then if you can, come back to us and look us right in the eye, see if you got the right to call yourself a wolf."

He didn't understand a single thing, neither his brother and father behaviour, nor what Lambert had had to do with anything, but it was the only clue he had and he was damned if he wasn't to use it.

He rode, for days, weeks on end, following every hint he could find every voice he could here, about where to find his brother. And when he finally set foot on the soil...

Well, that definitely wasn't what he had expected. He had been riding through a forest for a few hours, and now found himself in a small clearing, crossed by quiet stream. There, surrounded by the trees, stood a small cottage, covered in vine. The only noise came from the birds, and his footsteps on the grass. He walked up to the house, and was about to knock on the carved wooden door, when a familiar silhouette turned around the corner, carrying a bucket heavy with water. When he saw him, Lambert stopped dead in his tracks, and Geralt saw the rage burning in his eyes. But it was with the coldest voice that he asked:

"What are you doing here?"

Geralt was at a loss for words. He wasn't even sure himself.

"I-- Eskel told me--

\- You've come to see for yourself the damage you've done? Well you can turn around, ride away and never come back. You're good at that. He doesn't need to see you."

Geralt was growing frustrated.

"Look, I don't know what wrong I've done you, but Eskel told me to find you."

Lambert's eyes widened, and Geralt didn't know it was possible for them to fill even more with what was obviously anger and resentment.

"Eskel _told you_ to come? So you're not even here for _him_?? Geralt, you're lucky my hands are full at the moment!"

Both men stared at each other for a moment, each struggling to find what they would do next. Finally, Geralt whispered:

"Jaskier... Do you know where he is?

\- Yes, Lambert snapped. I know where he is."

And with that he reached for the door and opened it, calling gently as he stepped inside:

"Honey? I'm back!"

There was no answer, but for a soft humming. Geralt followed him in the cottage. It was lovely, by all accounts. The light was perfect. Everything was neat, not a speck of dust to be found. A gentle fire was burning in the hearth, in front of which sat a comfortable looking armchair, holding a small figure wrapped in a blue woolen blanket. The figure was the source of the humming. Lambert came and knelt in front of it.

"Honey?" he spoke gently. "We have a visitor."

The figure turned towards the door, and Geralt's heart fluttered. Jaskier. The bard tilted his head and gave him a smile.

"Oh, hello kind sir, how nice of you to have come to visit us! I'm afraid we don't have much to offer, but you're welcome to it." He turned back to Lambert. "Can I fix some tea?

\- Of course Honey!" The witcher answered. But it was Geralt he was looking at when he added: "You are free to do whatever you please. Always."

Jaskier smiled at him, a kind, warm smile, and proceeded to extract himself from the comfort of the armchair. He got up, in slow movements, and when he raised his hands to grab a kettle, Geralt's heart almost stopped in its chest when he saw how badly he was trembling.

It took some of Lambert's help to fill the infuser with tea leaves, to fill the kettle with water, and to put it in the hearth. But the witcher was enabling the bard, never standing in his way, never preventing him to do anything. When the water was set above the fire, Jaskier took his place back in the armchair, smiling, fixing the fire. He was quiet. It was deeply disturbing.

Lambert came to face his brother. Geralt looked stunned. He swallowed before asking:

"What happened?"

Lambert snorted.

" _You_ happened."

He sighed, sat down in a chair by the table, and motioned for Geralt to do the same.

"I found him a few months after you left. It was everything he was saying at the time. A neverending loop of 'he left me. He promised. He lied.' On and on again. Nobody could make sense of it, and nobody was bothering. I took him to a healer, and we managed to understand what had happened."

Lambert's tone was not even cold as he was telling the story, and Geralt realized he would much have preferred for his brother to yell at him, to hit him even.

"His mind has broken. He hasn't been able to take the betrayal. The damage is irreparable. The trembling is from the shock, we've been told. Prevents him from playing the lute. But it's not like he can anyway. He doesn't seem to remember how. He doesn't seem to remember much, actually. You're dead to him. And don't think that's a figure of speech. He's convinced you have died at some point, and that it's why you're no longer by his side. He didn't recognize you, most probably never will.

\- Lambert?" interrupted a small voice. "I think there's a snake in the stove. Could you please let him out?"

Lambert didn't even sigh.

"Of course Honey. I'll do it."

To say that Geralt was shocked would be a severe understatement. But he found himself unable to utter a word.

"Emotional safety." Said Lambert. "Ever heard of it? There's not only physical safety in the world Geralt. And what you did... Do you know that when I found him he was begging in the streets for a morsel of bread for who knows how long? He was a shadow of a man, hunger and despair written on his face. Even worse than what you can see today. At least, now, he has moments of happiness. Hell, I think I can even claim he's happy. But he's broken. Destroyed. And _you_ have done that."

Geralt was shaking. When he talked, he realized he was crying.

"I didn't know! I thought-- I thought it was for the best!

\- For the best Geralt? How can betrayal be for the best? How can you destroy someone's trust and claim it was for the best? Did you try to go for the lesser evil? Because let me tell you, Geralt, if that's the case, you've failed spectacularly.

\- But-- You-- Why do you--- It's not up to you to fix my mess!!

\- Your mess, Geralt? _Your_ mess? You think that's why I'm doing it? That I'm acting under the impression of some sort of brotherly duty towards you? Get down from your high horse, _your majesty_! I owe you fuck all, and that's most certainly not for you that I'm taking care of him. I'm doing it for him."

His voice was vibrating with fury.

"The poor lad has been through so much, he rightfully deserves some peace of mind, now, and someone to take care of him. I'm doing this for _him_."

Geralt was sobbing, now, but no comfort came from his brother. The kettle whistled, and Lambert got up to pour the hot water in the teapot, taking the opportunity to check the stove for snakes, as he had promised he would. He brought his cup to Jaskier who was still absent-mindedly fixing the fire in the hearth.

"Here's your tea, Honey. There was no snake in the stove, they must have gone away while the water was boiling."

Jaskier barely acknowledged him. Lambert then presented a cup to Geralt, and resumed his place by the table. Geralt was still crying.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry.

\- You should be. But it won't fix this.

\- What would? I'd do anything.

\- Nothing, Geralt. Nothing will ever fix what you've done. You will now have to live with yourself knowing the extent of your actions, and their consequences. May the gods forgive you, brother. I'm afraid I cannot."

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to take this opportunity to point out the importance of mental health and emotional safety in our relationships with other people. Real, actual damage can be done. I have seen people affected by trembling twenty years after an emotional shock. Betrayal can lead to trust issues, and sometimes finding refuge in a world of our own is the only way our mind can cope.  
> However, luckily, we can reach out. Do not hesitate to do it if you're concerned. It can get better, and with the right help we can heal.  
> Lots of love to you all, take good care.


End file.
